New York State Of Mind
by SpyKid18
Summary: When Meade Publications buys Betty's magazine she returns to New York. It's a fresh start for Betty, but the ghosts of the past are not far behind. Particularly when one of those ghosts is her new boss. Detty
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: My first Ugly Betty multi-chapter fic! Hope you enjoy!**

Back to Basics

The New York skyline was just like she remembered. She still felt that mix of wonderment and awe as she gazed up at all the towering skyscrapers. Two years in London had done some to temper the city-wonderment, but she would never lose the anxious thrum in the base of her belly when she stood in front of Meade Publication's headquarters. She felt like it was her first day all over again – complete with heavy bangs and her _Guadalajara _poncho.

In a way it was her first day, again. But things had changed. She wasn't some fresh-from-college rube entering the wild jungle of fashion. That was something she never wished to experience again. She was now the editor-and-chief of a successful woman's magazine – one so successful, in fact, that Meade Publications had taken it under its publication umbrella.

Betty took a deep breath and tugged at the bottom of her suit jacket.

"You are an attractive, intelligent, confident business woman," she reminded herself softly.

But the nerves had little to do with her business skills, anymore. Those two years in London had built and solidified her confidence. She took an idea and with the help of her business partner Harry created a multimillion dollar magazine. No, her nerves had nothing to do with her work performance. It was something else - someone else, to be more exact. It was someone else with dark brown hair and a penchant for blue suits. It was also someone whose name graced the very building where she would spend many, many of her forthcoming days.

"You can do this," she said softly, walking through the lobby. She pressed her finger on the up button and waited impatiently. The more time she spent in open spaces inside the Meade building, the more opportunities there were for her to run into him. And although she promised herself that she would be professional, she didn't really want to run into him. At least not on the first day.

The doors opened and she slipped inside, pressing the button for the 15th floor. The doors slid closed and she was just about to let out the breath she had been unconsciously holding when a hand poked through at the last moment. The doors sprung opened and then there he was, looking just as she remembered with his dark hair and blue suit. He stood there for a moment, and the doors nearly closed again, but then he stepped forward and stood next to her.

"Hello Betty," Daniel said in a level voice.

"Hi Daniel."

She didn't know why this was so uncomfortable. It wasn't as if they hadn't spoken since he'd returned to New York. He had been an active participant in the negotiations before her and Harry signed over the magazine to Meade Publications. But then they had sales figures and advertising space to talk about, and there were at least three other people in the room to cover the tension.

"Ready for your first day?" he asked, voice formal. It was the same voice he'd used with Wilhelmina back in their Mode days, and it stung because she knew what that meant.

"I think we are," she returned, eyes trained on the elevator doors. She paused for a second and then glanced toward him. "It's strange to be back here, though."

He didn't say anything and she wanted so badly to step toward him and force whatever he was thinking out of him like before. She could always make him talk, but not anymore. Things were too different now.

"Daniel-"

The doors slid open on his floor and he mumbled a hasty "good luck" before slipping out. She stepped back and leaned heavily against the wall as the doors slid shut.

* * *

Running a magazine was hard work. She'd seen it firsthand at Mode, but she learned quickly that seeing it was very different than actually physically running the magazine. There was always something to do – an advertiser to court or a last minute layout to approve. She usually did it with Harry, but he'd elected to stay in London for the next few months and close up all the outstanding business there with the magazine. That meant the brunt of the new issue work fell on her shoulders, and it was a substantial weight.

She barely even knew it was lunchtime until Marc and Amanda showed up, practically dragging her from her desk to a sushi spot down the street. They sat in one of the corner tables, Amanda and Marc munching on edamame while she dug into her order of tempura crusted salmon rolls.

"Give us all the details," Amanda demanded, popping a soy bean into her mouth. Betty began to go into her day at work, but Marc cut her off with a wave of his hand and said, "Oh please, when have we ever cared about your work? Tell us about Daniel."

Betty frowned, stuffing a salmon roll into her mouth. She should have never told Marc and Amanda what happened.

"Don't think you can eat your way out of this," Marc pressed.

"It's not like we haven't seen you talk with a full mouth before," Amanda added. "You did it, like, all the time back at Mode."

"I did not," Betty returned impulsively through a full mouth.

Amanda shook her head. "Tragic. Anyway, give us all the dirty little details! Did you guys bang in the elevator? Oh! Or maybe you have a secret sex room like my awesomely awesome mom Faye Summers and you guys went at it in there!"

Betty shook her head. "We did not _bang _anywhere. It's not like that."

"Anymore, you mean," Marc said. "Seriously, though, did you see him?"

"And was it awkward?" Amanda interjected. "Because I could definitely see it being awkward. Or, you know, sexual."

"Yes, I saw him. We were in the elevator together this morning."

"I knew there was elevator sex!" Amanda said triumphantly.

"There was no elevator sex," Betty said firmly. "There was just…awkwardness. And his Wilhelmina voice."

Marc gasped. "He used his Wilhelmina voice on you?"

Betty nodded. "He used his Wilhelmina voice on me."

Just the memory of it made her stomach twist. What happened to them? They had been close. He was her best friend, and she was pretty sure that she was his, too. Hell, he'd followed her to London. And then he left London. Because of her.

"I guess some awkwardness is expected," Marc said reasonably. "You did dine and ditch him."

"I did not dine and ditch him."

"Betty," Amanda said slowly. "You slept with him and then told him you wanted to be just friends. You dine and ditched him."

"Is it so bad that I wanted to just be friends? I have a right to feel the way that I feel."

Betty knew she was being stubborn, and she also knew that someone who only wanted to be friends didn't sleep with said friend. But she was missing home, and he was there, and the mixture of the wine and his deft hands made her forget a lot of things, namely why what they shouldn't have been doing what they were doing, and then it happened.

"I still can't believe you did it," Marc said. "I have to say, when you told me, I was a little proud." He glanced at Amanda and added, "Our little Mexican bird is growing up."

"I don't know what to do," Betty lamented. "I don't know how to make it right."

"You can't," Marc said. "This is something he has to move past. And, since it's been almost two years…"

"It's pretty unlikely he will ever want to look or speak to me again," Betty finished glumly. "But then why would he buy my magazine? If he hates me that much, why?"

"Because Daniel is a smart business man," Amanda filled in, garnering a snort from Marc.

"Probably more like Claire suggested it and then pushed until he said yes," Marc said. "If anyone was on your side here, Betty, it was Claire Meade. She liked you even before you got rid of those God-awful bangs."

"They were not that bad," Betty argued.

"Really Betty? Do you need us to show you a picture to jog that awful memory?"

Betty gave him a look. They weren't _that _bad. Would she want to have them again? No, but that was more a marker of her evolution of style than anything else. They weren't – okay, they were pretty bad.

"Anyway, I just wish things weren't so awkward. I thought maybe being in the same city...I don't know…"

"You'd pick up where you left off like nothing happened?"

Betty shrugged. "Kind of?"

"Betty, things changed before you slept together," Marc said. "He left Mode for you."

"I know," Betty said glumly.

"He flew all the way to _London_ to be with you."

Amanda sighed. "I forgot how romantic that was."

"So, basically I'm screwed?"

Together Amanda and Marc returned, "Basically."

**A/N: This is a teaser of things to come! Let me know if you want to see more!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: New chapter!**

The Launch Party

Betty sat at her desk, chatting excitedly on her phone with Hilda as she gazed adoringly down at the glossy magazine on her desk. Typically her desk was filled with miscellaneous papers and other odds and ends that made it nearly impossible to find whatever it was she actually needed, but today she had taken the time to clean it off. Her first issue with Meade Publications deserved a clean desk.

"I can't believe it," Betty gushed, grinning wide. "It's here. It's actually here."

"I'm so proud of you, Betty," Hilda said. "You're going to get us lots of issues, right? Papi wants to frame one."

Betty glanced at the tote bag propped up against the side of her desk and said, "I've already got a bag put together."

"Good. Bobby wanted some, too, to pass out at work."

"Don't worry, you'll have more than enough to pass around Queens."

"We're just so proud of you, babe. I mean, you really did it. Your first issue on your own. See, I told you that you didn't need that Harry guy after all."

"Be nice," Betty admonished lightly. Hilda had never been a big fan of Betty's business partner. She thought he was arrogant, which was partially true, but Betty knew better. Half of it was an act to get ahead in the magazine industry, the other half a coping mechanism from the terror he'd withstood as a junior editor at British Vogue for three years. She'd heard horror stories from him about that editor and chief that made Wilhelmina look like a puppy. While it had taken a bit for them to warm to each other, they'd grown to be close friends and she knew the magazine wouldn't have been possible without him.

"Alright, alright," Hilda said, the yield evident in her voice. Betty heard a loud crash on Hilda's line and a moment later a sharp piercing scream that belonged to her nephew.

"Hilda, what happened?" Betty asked immediately, imagining her nephew in all sorts of situations that she'd rather he not be in.

"It's nothing," Hilda said, the sound of her son's cries loud behind her. "Ricky just knocked over a lamp again. I swear that kid is going to ruin this house. I gotta go."

"Okay, tell Bobby I said hi."

"I will. Bye, hon."

"Bye Hilda."

She hung up her phone and turned her attention back down to her magazine, slowly running her finger down the spine.

"You know, you should close your door if you're going to get all intimate with your magazine," Amanda said from the doorway. Betty glanced up, rolling her eyes.

"I'm not getting intimate with my magazine. That's weird…and I'm pretty sure anatomically impossible."

"Whatever. So, I am here on important stylist business."

"Okay."

"What are you wearing for your launch party tonight?"

"Probably just a dress or something. I haven't really thought about it a lot."

In fact, she'd done her best to actively _not _think about it. While she appreciated the fact that there was a party essentially being thrown for her, she also appreciated the fact that Daniel would be there, and since they still hadn't held a full conversation since she'd returned to New York, she was not too keen on being around him. The only consolation was that there'd be lots of other people there to distract her. And alcohol.

"Well, you are just in luck because I happen to be a stylist. And I am going to make you the hottest editor Meade Publications has ever seen."

Betty's eyes widened. Amanda was, indeed, a stylist (and a successful one at that) but the way she dressed her clients wasn't exactly the way Betty would dress. Especially in public.

"Oh, Amanda, you don't have to-"

"I know I don't," Amanda said simply. "I want to. This is your launch party, Betty. You need to look hot. And with me on your side, there's like…a seventy five percent chance that will happen."

Betty gave her a look.

"What? I'm not a miracle worker. Anyway, I will be at your apartment at seven o'clock. Take out some dresses you think you'd like to wear. And then after I reject them all, we'll get to work."

"Why would I take any dresses out if you're going to reject them all?"

Amanda slowly explained, "I've found that clients like it when they feel involved in the dressing process."

"Even if you reject everything?"

"It's my job to reject their style. That's why they hired me."

Betty was going to question that, but then decided against it. She sighed, planting her palms down on the desk as she said, "Alright, seven o'clock it is."

Amanda practically beamed.

* * *

Betty left the office at six o'clock, figuring she had just enough time to pick up dinner, eat, and choose the selection of dresses that Amanda would promptly reject at seven. She mentally was going through her closet when she stepped into the elevator. The doors slid shut, and the elevator descended. The doors jumped open against just when she thought of her favorite pink shift dress.

"Betty, hi."

Daniel stepped inside the elevator, gaze squarely on the closing elevator doors. Betty swallowed hard and said, "Hi Daniel."

They were quiet for a moment until she impulsively asked, "Are you coming to the launch party tonight?"

"You mean your launch party?" he asked, smirk evident in his voice. It almost felt like old times and it made her stomach hurt.

"Yeah," she said, laughing a bit. "My launch party. God, it feels so weird to say that."

"Hey, you earned it," he said. "I looked through your first issue. It's really good."

She glanced over at him. "You looked through it?"

He seemed to stiffen at that, and she could practically see his spine straighten as he said, "Yes. I wanted to make sure our investment will pay off. You weren't cheap to buy."

She glanced back at the doors, nodding to herself. "Right. Of course."

The doors slid open and he hung back as she walked out. From behind her he said, "I'll see you tonight."

"Yeah," she said, voice unnaturally loud. "Tonight."

She suddenly wished he wouldn't be there. This was her night, and his presence as ruining everything. She should be celebrating. She should be excited that she'd achieved as much as she had, and instead she was stupidly wondering what he'd think of whatever Amanda put her in and who he was bringing. She sighed, running her fingers through her hair.

"I'm going to need a lot of alcohol."

* * *

True to her word, that night Amanda rejected all five dresses that Betty had laid out on her bed.

"Please tell me you weren't serious about those. Because, otherwise, I'm going to have to take back anything nice I've said about your style recently."

"You haven't said anything nice," Betty deadpanned. Amanda laughed a bit and said, "Oh, you're right! But, I'm serious Betty. These are awful. Like, really awful."

"Well, then work your stylist magic."

"It's not magic," Amanda said seriously. "It's skill developed from years of close Vogue reading. And, of course, my fashion genes from my mother Faye Summers."

Before Betty could even respond to that ridiculousness Amanda had turned and made her way into the closet. She rifled through the hangers with the sort of dogged determination that Betty imagined military snipers exhibited on missions. Amanda went through the hangers deftly, usually not spending more than a few seconds looking at each garment. She paused on a bright orange cardigan and shook her head.

"My God, Betty, this is worse than I thought."

She continued her search, beginning to pull out garments. She handed them back to Betty without a word, attention focused fully on the hangers before her. After a few minutes Betty was nearly toppling over from the mass of clothing in her arms. Amanda instructed her to place them on the bed, and then she began forming outfits. Twenty minutes later Betty was standing in front of her full-length mirror in an oversized shirt belted over a pencil skirt. She looked like a secretary who just left from doing something very dirty with her boss.

"I don't think this is my look," Betty said carefully.

"What? You look hot. Seriously. If I were a guy, I would totally bang you."

"It's just not my style," Betty said. "How about we try another look?"

"Fine," Amanda sighed.

The next look was a silky pajama top over cigarette trousers. Amanda seemed to like this look even better than the last, Betty was less convinced.

"Seriously, Betty, let me do my job."  
"How about you dress me in a way that doesn't scream 'I just had sex and grabbed the nearest thing'?"

"It's a good look," Amanda argued.

"Yeah, maybe on some people but not on me. Come on, Amanda, you know me. You know my style."

"Or lack there of," Amanda said snidely.

"Amanda," Betty warned.

"Ugh, fine," Amanda said, giving in. "I'll dress you like…you."

She went back into the closet, muttering just loud enough so that Betty could hear every offensive thing. Betty couldn't complain about the outfit she was in ten minutes later, though. It was a simple black cocktail dress that she'd gotten for a wedding back in London. Amanda paired it with cream heels and a deep red belt that went with one of her suits. The finishing touch was a pearl headband Betty had bought on a whim at a London boutique and never worn. She hadn't known how to pair it, yet within three minutes Amanda had put it with the perfect outfit.

"It's not my favorite look," Amanda said, scrutinizing the finished product in the mirror. "But it'll work."

"Amanda, it's perfect," Betty said, eyes tearing up just a little. She turned around and enveloped the diminutive blonde in a tight hug. Amanda laughed, gently prying herself away as she said, "Don't cry, you'll make your face blotchy. And speaking of your face, and blotchiness, I better help out with your makeup."

* * *

Marc lounged at one of the high-top tables, casually drinking a flute of champagne. He caught sight of Betty and Amanda and smiled wide, setting his drink down on the table.

"Well, aren't you a hot little chalupa tonight," he said.

"Thanks Marc," Betty said, laughing. "This is all Amanda, though. She styled me."

"It was a challenge, but I rose to it," Amanda said loftily.

"Did you ever. So, Betty, you see the cake with your face on it yet?"

"There's a cake with my face on it?" Betty said loudly. "Where?"

Marc pointed evasively in a direction and Betty ran off toward it.

"There's not actually a cake with her face on it, is there?" Amanda asked gingerly, nose scrunched.

"God no. That would be terrifying." Marc watched Betty dart around the room and sighed, tilting his head to the side. "Ah, look at her waddle. It's just like old times."

Betty looked around, trying to find the cake with her face on it. Her attention diverted, she didn't see Wilhelmina in front of her until she nearly collided with the statuesque woman.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" Betty gushed, cheeks flushing.

"It's alright, Betty," Wilhelmina said, straightening up.

"It's just that Mark told me there's a cake with my face on it and –"

"I can assure you, Betty, that there is not a cake with your face on it," Wilhelmina interrupted, glancing over Betty's shoulder at their attentive audience. "My, it really is like old times."

"Huh?" Betty glanced over her shoulder and Amanda waved while Marc raised his drink in a silent salute. Betty turned back, frowning. "Oh. So, there really isn't a cake with my face on it?"

"No, Betty. This isn't Chuckee Cheese. Anyway, I was coming over here to congratulate you on your first issue."

"Oh, thank you," Betty said, reaching up and readjusting her glasses. It was strange to get a compliment from Wilhelmina Slater. It was like seeing one of your professors out at the local Walmart. One just didn't belong with the other. "I read through it. You have some smart pieces in there."

"That's what we do," Betty answered with a small grin. No matter how many times people mentioned her magazine, she would never tire of talking it up. "Smart pieces that empower women. Pieces that inspire women."

"Well, you've certainly achieved that. I'm impressed. And you know I don't impress easily."

"No, you don't."

Wilhelmina's lips pressed into a smirk of sort and Betty felt her stomach clench. A smirking Wilhelmina was always a dangerous thing. "Anway, welcome back to Meade."

Wilhelmina raised her champagne flute in a parting gesture and slid away into the crowd. A waiter passed Betty with a tray of salmon puffs and Betty took one, popping it in her mouth as she returned to Marc and Amanda's table.

"Very funny guys," Betty said, taking Marc's champagne flute and taking a sip. Mark frowned and went, "Hey, get your own, alkie."

Betty put down the drink and at that moment Daniel Meade walked into the room with a tall brunette on his arm. Her hair was wavy perfection, reaching down to the middle of her back. The gold dress she wore skimmed her curves and accentuated her impossibly tiny waist.

"I see Daniel's back to his old ways," Betty remarked, sounding more bitter than she'd intended. She watched the woman turn in toward Daniel to whisper something in his hair, her hand resting casually on his chest. It was then that she noticed the ring.

"Daniel's engaged?" Betty stammered.

Marc winced while Amanda hid in her flute of champagne.

"Yeah," he said. "We might have forgotten to mention that part."

Betty gaped at him. "You think?"

She snatched her purse off the table and Amanda jumped. As she walked away Betty could hear Amanda say, "I forgot how fiery-Latina she gets when she'd mad."

She wasn't mad. That was an overstatement. She was just irritated, because Daniel being engaged is something she should have known. They should have told her. Hell, Daniel should have told her. But instead she was being blind-sided by it at a party that was supposed to be for her. This was her night, and Daniel was high-jacking it.

"Betty!"

Betty turned around, forcing a smile when she saw Claire Meade walking toward her. Claire hugged her tightly.

"Congratulations, Betty," Claire said, practically beaming with pride. "I knew you had it in you. From the first time I met you, I knew you were an editor."

"Thank you, Mrs. Meade."

"And, I must say, it is nice to have you around here again." Claire glanced over Betty's shoulder and added, "I'm not the only one who feels that way, either. Despite what appearances may say."

Betty didn't have to look over her shoulder to know to whom Claire was referring. She didn't know what to say for a moment and settled for, "It's good to be back. I missed New York."

"I bet your family is glad to have you back."

"Oh, my dad is beside himself," Betty said. "He's already had me over for dinner four times."

"Parents like to dote on their children. It's what we're here for, after all." Betty grinned. "Well, dear, I won't hog you. You enjoy your party."

"Thank you, Mrs. Meade."

She walked out into the crowd, nodding hello to people as she passed. She tried to enjoy herself - really she did – but she seemed to see Daniel everywhere. Giving up for the moment, she walked out into the hallway to escape to the bathroom. She stood in front of the mirror, studying her reflection. Amanda had given her a deep red lip and cat-eyes. It wasn't something she would wear on her own, but it did accentuate her fine features. After she spent the stretch of what was an appropriate amount of time in the bathroom, she took a deep breath and walked outside. Right at that moment Daniel was leaving the men's bathroom, and she wondered why her life was a running joke.

"Daniel," she stammered, wondering why she was incapable of using full sentences around him anymore.

"Hello Betty. Great party."

"Thank you. It's, uh, it's really something in there, huh? No cake with my face on it, though. You should think about that for future launch parties. Cakes with faces are really big…like…all the time."

Great. She couldn't talk before and now she couldn't stop. She thought Daniel would look at her like she was crazy but instead he laughed, the sound something that she hadn't realized she missed.

"Thank you for laughing at my rambling," she said, shifting uncomfortably.

"I've missed your rambling," he said off-handedly. He paused for a second and she could see him shut down as he realized that they were actually having a decent interaction.

"I should get back in there," he said.

"Right. Me too. It's my launch party, after all."

"Yeah."

As they walked in she couldn't stop herself from saying, "I heard congratulations are in order for you."

"Excuse me?" he said, glancing down at her.

"Your engagement?"

He looked away, jaw tightening. "Oh, thanks."

"Is it recent?"

He nodded. "Last month."

"I saw you guys walk in," she said, trying hard for civility. See, she could do this. She could be nice and civil and hold a nice and civil conversation. Easy as pie. "She looks lovely."

"She is," he said, nodding. "She's um…yeah. She's great."

"I'm happy for you." He didn't say anything and she reached over and touched his arm. "I really am, Daniel."

He glanced down at her again, face still guarded. There was a sliver of a smile, though, and he nodded and said, "Thanks, Betty. Well, I should…"

"Me too," she said. "It was nice seeing you."

"You too, Betty."

Daniel walked away Betty stood there, watching him go. Amanda and Marc appeared at her side and began firing off questions.

"What just happened? Did you guys talk?"

"Yeah, did you guys talk?" Amanda echoed. "Or have elevator sex again?"

Betty took a deep breath, watching Daniel put his arm around his beautiful fiancee's waist. "I need a drink."

**A/N: Reviews would be fab :)**


End file.
